Of Boobies and Dragons
by Random Guise
Summary: A sequel to the James Thurber story "A Unicorn in the Garden". After the men in the white coats took his wife away, it seemed as though the husband was going to have a peaceful life. Until his neighbor decided to ruin it. I don't own the man, but I do have a few power tools.


**A/N: A sequel to the James Thurber story 'A Unicorn in the Garden', also made into a cartoon circa 1953. It ended with the moral "Don't count your boobies before they are hatched". For the sake of those not familiar with the term, the booby hatch was slang for a mental health detainment facility, also known at the time as 'the loony bin' (particularly by those who felt themselves far from needing any such facility).**

* * *

Of Boobies and Dragons

After the doctor and the police took the man's wife away screaming, he settled into a happy quiet life. The unicorn never returned to his garden, much to the delight and long life of his flowers. The man missed the unicorn, but as most people never even get to see a unicorn once in their life he counted himself fortunate to even have the single opportunity.

He was able to devote much of his time to the care and nurturing of the grounds around his house; the shrubs, flowers, grass and trees showed the amount of attention he paid to them and rewarded him with vibrant shades one normally associates with rainbows and new boxes of crayons.

He also found himself spending more time just enjoying his garden, where he would soak in the sun and bathe in the quiet of nature. Although the grass and the sun were constant, the quiet was often disturbed by his neighbor who would bring out a radio and play music loudly while sitting and reading a newspaper in his yard. The neighbor, who was named Sam, envied the man his yard; he spent most of his time doing anything _but_ yard work, using his ample time to lounge and think of new ways the world was cruel and unfair to him. One day Sam leaned over the fence between their yards and asked the man if his music was bothering him.

"Yes," he said "now that you've come to ask it is a bit loud. I would appreciate it if you could turn it down some. It's a lovely day out isn't it?"

Sam agreed that it was, but went back and changed stations to music that was even louder and more grating. The man stayed in his yard for a bit, then went inside to escape the musical assault.

The next day as he lay in his garden again, upon a favorite spot near the wall, Sam returned to his backyard and started playing the music again. He leaned over the wall and asked the man if he liked music.

"I do enjoy music, certainly" the man answered. "Just, perhaps, at not such a high level."

Sam went back to his radio and turned the music up and continued the book he was now starting to read. The man lay and watched the clouds for a bit, then returned to his house for quiet. It was at this time an idea germinated in Sam, probably the only thing he _was_ responsible for growing. And the idea was this: if the man could be made to move away, Sam could then obtain his house and his wonderful grounds without all the work of establishing the plants and moving the paving stones that it would take to make something of his own yard.

After this, whenever possible if Sam would come out into his back yard and see the man enjoying the quiet, he did everything possible to disrupt the event. Power tools were left on without being used, the radio enjoyed regular high volume concerts, and Sam even managed to find an old motorcycle that was joyfully missing a muffler but could sit on a jack stand and run noisily.

One day Sam came out to see the man standing in his garden, just staring. He asked the man what was so interesting to watch.

"I'm trying to determine what type of dragon has landed in my yard. I don't know much about them" he said.

Sam looked and saw nothing; little did he know that his view was blocked by a shed, and in fact there was a small dragon munching on a few apples from a tree. "Dragons are fictional, and if you can't tell a shrub from a fictional beast you live in a fantasy world." Sam returned to his porch and started hammering on a piece of metal for no reason except to make noise; it startled the dragon which immediately flew off. Sam was busy not smashing his thumb and didn't notice the departure. His plan seemed to be working, as the man was obviously starting to crack mentally.

The next day was again sunny (for it was a very sunny and pleasant most of that year's spring) and when Sam went out into his backyard he saw the man standing by the fence holding a carrot up high. Sam hurried near the fence and asked what the man was doing.

"Trying to see if dragons like carrots" he said. As much as the dragon liked apples, the man thought perhaps a different kind of produce might be appealing as well.

Sam looked over and saw nothing; this time a tree with thick foliage blocked his view of the animal. "You're trying to feed your foolish thoughts" he said "and it's a wonder that they don't take the bait." He grinned as he walked away and started up his lawn mower, even though it had no wheels and he had no lawn. He played with the throttle imagining the effect of the nerve-rattling noise; while hunched over the machine he failed to see the dragon fly away.

It rained the next day and both men stayed indoors, but the next day the storm passed through, leaving fluffy clouds behind. When Sam came out he was not surprised to see the man again, but this time he was waving his hand in the air while pointing off. By this time Sam was sure the man was completely loony, and sliding up behind him asked with mock innocence what the man was doing.

"Following the aerobatics of the dragon; he flies so well among the clouds!" the man said.

Sam looked up just after the dragon flew behind a cloud, and so instead focused only on a kite that was flying low on the horizon. "You give wing to madness, and would be safer in the booby hatch." He started his mower without wheels, the motorcycle on its stand, his radio with no listener, a drill with no drill bit, a saw with no blade and for good measure started a blender with nothing in it before he went back in his house. He called the police and reported a crazy neighbor who was hallucinating and raving like a madman, nearly shouting over the phone for the authorities to put a stop to it and hurry.

In the meantime, the noise drove away the looping dragon and the man went about some yard work, putting on a pair of ear muffs to help block out the noise.

Within minutes two policemen arrived at the front door and Sam let them into his backyard. They saw the man was in his garden with ear muffs on, now trimming a few branches on a tree. The policemen looked at the man working. Then they looked at the mower that wasn't mowing. They looked at the motorcycle going nowhere, the drill that wasn't drilling, the saw that wasn't cutting, the radio playing to no one, and the blender blending nothing. Sam was pleading to stop the crazy man and put him away for the safety of the community, but with all the noise all the police could see was him stomping around waving his arms angrily. When the police failed to react immediately, he grabbed a hammer and beat on the piece of metal to emphasize his points. One policeman grabbed Sam in a sure hold and disarmed him of the hammer, while the other turned off the mower, the motorcycle, the power tools, the radio and the blender before they both escorted him to a facility for long-term care.

The man never saw the dragon again, nor did he ever see his neighbor Sam. The next day he did see the policeman that came to his door, who explained that the man wouldn't be bothered by the delusional Sam again thanks to a restraining order from an understanding judge. The policeman praised the man for his understanding, restraint and tolerance and wished him a good day.

A month later a nice quiet family moved in next door and the man lived happily ever after.

Moral: Try as you might, some boobies will never be hatched.

The End

* * *

 **A/N: Although 'booby' was an old term for a mentally ill person, it is also a species of seabird and I think Thurber used the pun instead of 'chicken', so I continued in that manner. Our societal attitudes towards mental illness has changed a great deal since the original story was written. As to the rumor that a blue police call box appeared one day in the man's garden, I can neither confirm nor deny the matter...**


End file.
